Chapter 4: Hold Onto the Night
The slanting sunlight illuminated Kirsten's sleeping form, throwing her face into sharp relief. Her brilliant blue eyes were clear in sleep and her chest gently fell with every deep breath she took. Ryan watched her peaceful form, fiddling with a cigarette that he desperately wanted to light up, yet he was rooted in place, fixated by the beautiful image of Kirsten sleeping peacefully. Ryan had lain in the chair facing the bed for most of the morning just watching Kirsten sleeping. He had woken up to the familiar and comfortable sensation of a female head lying on his chest. He was briefly disoriented, but quickly the memories of the past night had hit Ryan hard and he realized that the curtain of blonde hair belonged to Kirsten. He immediately began to think about moving, of extricating himself from her embrace, but quickly realized that the last thing he wanted to do was to move. He had bedded a lot of girls in his lifetime, had had a lot of great sex. But none of these girls he had bedded, not even the few older women he had slept with, not even Theresa or Marissa, had he wanted to cuddle with. Cuddling was definitely not Ryan Atwood's thing. Especially cuddling naked. It was almost a prerequisite that he cuddle with Marissa, she insisted on it, but he hadn't liked it. He had felt uncomfortable with her body pinning him down, she had felt too bony. And Theresa while he enjoyed sharing a bed with her, it had been an unspoken agreement ever since they were little kids that they stuck on their sides of the bed. Theresa wasn't exactly a cuddling type of girl. But with Kirsten it felt natural, comfortable. It was only the faint light emanating from the kitchen, dimly visible through the blinds that had compelled Ryan to move. He immediately thought with a sickening lurch in his stomach that it had been Sandy, searching for Kirsten. Ryan had been ready to wake Kirsten up, and had already begun collecting their clothes, which were scattered haphazardly throughout the room. His heart pounding Ryan had squinted through the blinds, audibly sighing in relief when he realized that it was only Rosa, the maid. The few seconds of numbing terror followed by a few seconds of overwhelming relief had warranted a cigarette.
Immediately after he had stepped out of the pool house to have his cigarette, the enormity, the wrongness of his relationship with Kirsten had hit him like a tidal wave. Images of Seth's face, of Sandy's face, of Marissa's face danced in front of him. This was the way it was with Kirsten. Whenever they were physically together, Ryan could think of nothing but his desire for her. It was like they were the only two people in the world. It felt completely right. And for the first time since he had held his baby girl in his arms Ryan had felt content, happy. And the more time Ryan spent with her, the more alive he felt with her. But as soon as she left, real-life would come crashing in. Waves of guilt would engulf him. It was like back when Ryan was a kid, before his mother had completely descended into drug and alcohol abuse, he would sit on her lap and tell her about his day. And she would give him her undivided attention, made Ryan feel like he was the centre of her existence. But whenever his mother's boyfriend would come home, or Trey would come home, the connection between Ryan and his mother would be shattered. Shouting, hitting would inevitably follow. But for those precious minutes when he would sit in his mother's lap, eating an oatmeal cookie and excitedly give her the details of his day, everything would be all right. With Kirsten it was like that. When they were together Ryan felt complete, whole. And he believed that things could work out somehow. But as Ryan stood there, blowing smoke rings toward the house that Sandy and Kirsten had bought together, had shared their lives in, had raised a son in, Ryan felt nothing but numbing shame, shame so intense that he had to consciously stop himself from taking off. Yet even as these emotions had threatened to tear Ryan apart, to send him back to the streets he had sworn never to go back to, as he sat quietly in the chair watching the moonlight that illuminated Kirsten's face with a ethereal glow turn to sunlight Ryan once again felt a sense of peace overcome him. Ryan figured that experiencing so many wildly conflicting emotions in so short of a time could not be healthy for his emotional stability. But this emotional rollar-coaster was nothing new to Ryan; he had been experiencing it ever since he had slept with Kirsten for the first time. Often Ryan wondered if it was all worth it, if being with Kirsten had brought him nothing but internal agony. Hanging out with Summer the day before, down at the pier, seeing all the normal couples hanging out down at the beach Ryan was struck by a sudden longing just to be a normal teenager with a normal relationship with a girl his own age. Ryan thought that sacrificing those brief moments of utter happiness he felt with Kirsten might be a small price for a sense of normalcy, for a chance at a relatively angst-free relationship that didn't have the potential of tearing apart the only family Ryan had really known.
Yet one look at Kirsten crumpled in agony on the kitchen floor that night had dispelled all those thoughts. Her beautiful blue eyes, so clouded with pain and hurt had sucked Ryan in, made it impossible for him not to comfort her. Ryan had always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. Marissa, Theresa, and now Kirsten. Leaving Kirsten there on the floor was not an option for Ryan. His desire to make her pain go away had been the only thing that Ryan felt when he saw her. The one thing that Ryan had always admired about Kirsten, ever since he first moved in with the Cohens had been her mixture of strength and vulnerability. Ryan had seen how strong she was during her fights with her father, during her attempts to deal with her estranged sister's dramatic re-entry into her life, and when Ryan left for Chino. Yet at the same thing he saw an underlying sense of vulnerability. This mix appealed to Ryan. Marissa had been all vulnerability with no real strength, other than the strength Ryan had tried to give her. Theresa had that same mix that Kirsten had, but with that tough mentality that being raised in Chino had given her, which made it impossible for Ryan to reach her. Kirsten, her pain was something Ryan knew how to relieve without feeling like a constant baby-sitter. If there was anything that defined Ryan Atwood, it was his need to be needed.
Ryan's reverie was broken by the sounds of Kirsten stirring in the bed. She blinked and looked around the room blearily, obviously disoriented. Then her entire body seemed to sag as she remembered.
"Oh my god, Ryan" she murmured, turning her head to look at Ryan who sat rigidly on the edge of the chair staring at her. "Sandy.." she trailed off.
'He left for work" Ryan broke in roughly "I saw him leave" He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "What are we going to do?" Kirsten asked plaintively "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep running to you" Ryan sat staring at his hands "I know Kirsten" he swallowed hard, surprised at the difficult that his next words came out "This is so wrong." but I couldn't stand seeing in that amount of pain" his voice shook slightly "I needed to help you" Kirsten was struck by a sudden rush of warmth mixed in with a slight sense of fear at the naked emotion present in his voice. She sat up and gently placed her arms around Ryan's neck. She whispered into Ryan's ear, sending small shivers down Ryan's back "I still need you" At this, Ryan turned around and started to protest. At the sight of her lips so close to his though, his protest died in his throat. He searched her eyes "This is the last time" he finally whispered. "It has to be" Kirsten agreed softly before pressing her lips to Ryan's, pulling him down to the bed, neither one of them believing this, but neither of them caring.
The slanting sunlight illuminated Kirsten's sleeping form, throwing her face into sharp relief. Her brilliant blue eyes were clear in sleep and her chest gently fell with every deep breath she took. Ryan watched her peaceful form, fiddling with a cigarette that he desperately wanted to light up, yet he was rooted in place, fixated by the beautiful image of Kirsten sleeping peacefully. Ryan had lain in the chair facing the bed for most of the morning just watching Kirsten sleeping. He had woken up to the familiar and comfortable sensation of a female head lying on his chest. He was briefly disoriented, but quickly the memories of the past night had hit Ryan hard and he realized that the curtain of blonde hair belonged to Kirsten. He immediately began to think about moving, of extricating himself from her embrace, but quickly realized that the last thing he wanted to do was to move. He had bedded a lot of girls in his lifetime, had had a lot of great sex. But none of these girls he had bedded, not even the few older women he had slept with, not even Theresa or Marissa, had he wanted to cuddle with. Cuddling was definitely not Ryan Atwood's thing. Especially cuddling naked. It was almost a prerequisite that he cuddle with Marissa, she insisted on it, but he hadn't liked it. He had felt uncomfortable with her body pinning him down, she had felt too bony. And Theresa while he enjoyed sharing a bed with her, it had been an unspoken agreement ever since they were little kids that they stuck on their sides of the bed. Theresa wasn't exactly a cuddling type of girl. But with Kirsten it felt natural, comfortable. It was only the faint light emanating from the kitchen, dimly visible through the blinds that had compelled Ryan to move. He immediately thought with a sickening lurch in his stomach that it had been Sandy, searching for Kirsten. Ryan had been ready to wake Kirsten up, and had already begun collecting their clothes, which were scattered haphazardly throughout the room. His heart pounding Ryan had squinted through the blinds, audibly sighing in relief when he realized that it was only Rosa, the maid. The few seconds of numbing terror followed by a few seconds of overwhelming relief had warranted a cigarette.
Immediately after he had stepped out of the pool house to have his cigarette, the enormity, the wrongness of his relationship with Kirsten had hit him like a tidal wave. Images of Seth's face, of Sandy's face, of Marissa's face danced in front of him. This was the way it was with Kirsten. Whenever they were physically together, Ryan could think of nothing but his desire for her. It was like they were the only two people in the world. It felt completely right. And for the first time since he had held his baby girl in his arms Ryan had felt content, happy. And the more time Ryan spent with her, the more alive he felt with her. But as soon as she left, real-life would come crashing in. Waves of guilt would engulf him. It was like back when Ryan was a kid, before his mother had completely descended into drug and alcohol abuse, he would sit on her lap and tell her about his day. And she would give him her undivided attention, made Ryan feel like he was the centre of her existence. But whenever his mother's boyfriend would come home, or Trey would come home, the connection between Ryan and his mother would be shattered. Shouting, hitting would inevitably follow. But for those precious minutes when he would sit in his mother's lap, eating an oatmeal cookie and excitedly give her the details of his day, everything would be all right. With Kirsten it was like that. When they were together Ryan felt complete, whole. And he believed that things could work out somehow. But as Ryan stood there, blowing smoke rings toward the house that Sandy and Kirsten had bought together, had shared their lives in, had raised a son in, Ryan felt nothing but numbing shame, shame so intense that he had to consciously stop himself from taking off. Yet even as these emotions had threatened to tear Ryan apart, to send him back to the streets he had sworn never to go back to, as he sat quietly in the chair watching the moonlight that illuminated Kirsten's face with a ethereal glow turn to sunlight Ryan once again felt a sense of peace overcome him. Ryan figured that experiencing so many wildly conflicting emotions in so short of a time could not be healthy for his emotional stability. But this emotional rollar-coaster was nothing new to Ryan; he had been experiencing it ever since he had slept with Kirsten for the first time. Often Ryan wondered if it was all worth it, if being with Kirsten had brought him nothing but internal agony. Hanging out with Summer the day before, down at the pier, seeing all the normal couples hanging out down at the beach Ryan was struck by a sudden longing just to be a normal teenager with a normal relationship with a girl his own age. Ryan thought that sacrificing those brief moments of utter happiness he felt with Kirsten might be a small price for a sense of normalcy, for a chance at a relatively angst-free relationship that didn't have the potential of tearing apart the only family Ryan had really known.
Yet one look at Kirsten crumpled in agony on the kitchen floor that night had dispelled all those thoughts. Her beautiful blue eyes, so clouded with pain and hurt had sucked Ryan in, made it impossible for him not to comfort her. Ryan had always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. Marissa, Theresa, and now Kirsten. Leaving Kirsten there on the floor was not an option for Ryan. His desire to make her pain go away had been the only thing that Ryan felt when he saw her. The one thing that Ryan had always admired about Kirsten, ever since he first moved in with the Cohens had been her mixture of strength and vulnerability. Ryan had seen how strong she was during her fights with her father, during her attempts to deal with her estranged sister's dramatic re-entry into her life, and when Ryan left for Chino. Yet at the same thing he saw an underlying sense of vulnerability. This mix appealed to Ryan. Marissa had been all vulnerability with no real strength, other than the strength Ryan had tried to give her. Theresa had that same mix that Kirsten had, but with that tough mentality that being raised in Chino had given her, which made it impossible for Ryan to reach her. Kirsten, her pain was something Ryan knew how to relieve without feeling like a constant baby-sitter. If there was anything that defined Ryan Atwood, it was his need to be needed.
Ryan's reverie was broken by the sounds of Kirsten stirring in the bed. She blinked and looked around the room blearily, obviously disoriented. Then her entire body seemed to sag as she remembered.
"Oh my god, Ryan" she murmured, turning her head to look at Ryan who sat rigidly on the edge of the chair staring at her. "Sandy.." she trailed off.
'He left for work" Ryan broke in roughly "I saw him leave" He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "What are we going to do?" Kirsten asked plaintively "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep running to you" Ryan sat staring at his hands "I know Kirsten" he swallowed hard, surprised at the difficult that his next words came out "This is so wrong." but I couldn't stand seeing in that amount of pain" his voice shook slightly "I needed to help you" Kirsten was struck by a sudden rush of warmth mixed in with a slight sense of fear at the naked emotion present in his voice. She sat up and gently placed her arms around Ryan's neck. She whispered into Ryan's ear, sending small shivers down Ryan's back "I still need you" At this, Ryan turned around and started to protest. At the sight of her lips so close to his though, his protest died in his throat. He searched her eyes "This is the last time" he finally whispered. "It has to be" Kirsten agreed softly before pressing her lips to Ryan's, pulling him down to the bed, neither one of them believing this, but neither of them caring.